


what spills out from the gilded cage

by reogulus



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Character Study, Episode Tag, Episode s02e06: Argestes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reogulus/pseuds/reogulus
Summary: “You know, Lawrence, you’re exactly what my dad would call a prick-tease.”Set during the day after 2.06.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	what spills out from the gilded cage

Out of the corner of his eye, Lawrence catches Kendall on the pier, making a beeline towards his lakefront seat.

If this were to happen yesterday, he might have contemplated leaving, taking his smoke break elsewhere. But it’s the second day of Argestes, which is really a half day. With the roast from the night before being the official ending ceremony, it’s just one last shot at a pity fuck for those who couldn’t close yesterday, for the closers to watch from the sidelines and have a snide laugh, to garnish the victory they’d already earned. Lawrence managed to close his deal last night on a previously scheduled video call with an investor connected to the chaebols in South Korea, and it was well worth skipping the subpar performance of a subpar stand-up. So, yeah, he’s not going to give a fuck about Kendall Roy coming over for a light. He’s fucking earned that much.

“Hey, Lawrence,” Kendall’s footsteps approach from behind him. Daddy’s boy is all slow and measured now, quite apart from the manic, jittery pace reeking of the desperation that Lawrence used to love toying with, back when they had the dynamic of a Venus flytrap and an insect blinded by buzz. “Got a light?”

Lawrence leans forward from the chair, turns to hold out the lighter. Kendall approaches the flame, a hand steadying the cigarette in his mouth. They are alone on the pier; the last of the attendees have trickled out to their cars and jets.

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

“Yeah, well.” Lawrence puts the lighter back in his jacket pocket, takes another drag, and takes in the view around them. It’s windless, not a rustle through the trees. The lake sits heartbreakingly still.

“I hear there’s trouble brewing. You and dad, getting flaccid together at Placid.”

Kendall chuckles, steps forward to stand next to Lawrence. It’s annoying when Kendall gets quiet like this; much more difficult to read, and still not worth the effort.

“Didn’t see you at the roast last night.”

“Sorry to have missed it.”

“No, I’m sure you have something big cooking, right? Got that track record to keep up, that serial entrepreneur shit.”

Lawrence gives him a look, like he’s assessing carefully whether to actually engage with this conversation. It comes across more sinister than it should be, now that the beard lends his face more chiseled contours. Kendall meets his eyes, squarely holding his gaze.

“I did get my fill of the schadenfreude at your little panel, so, thanks for that. I’m surprised those poor dead women didn’t come back to life just to applaud you all for that touching performance, and then go back to being dead.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not, you know, instant feedback but I’ll give you a call when we get there.”

Lawrence takes a drag and exhales, in lieu of a sigh. He thinks about how smoking, like Kendall Roy, is shaving years off his life as they speak. How he’s still not out of the ring yet.

“Lose my number, Kendall. I mean it.”

Kendall seems genuinely amused by the notion. “I don’t think I actually, physically can, dude. Unless you are resigning from the board of directors.”

“Easy there. I still got my block of shares.”

Silence hangs there between them for a moment. As far as retorts go, he’s gone for an even-keeled one; as the rumor mills have it, the proxy battle is getting dicey. The Roys may have to fight for every tenth of a percent in a few days’ time. Lawrence has been leaving those emails from Waystar unopened, but also hitting cancel on the robocalls and tablet videos from Sandy and Stewy. It’s all white noise to him. They are spiteful scavengers fighting over dinosaur carcass.

“You know, Lawrence, you’re exactly what my dad would call a prick-tease.”

Lawrence turns to look at Kendall. He has to laugh. “You’ve fucked me, the one time that it matters.”

There’s a crinkle around Kendall’s eye. “Because you moved too slow. And you let me.”

“Truth be told, Kendall,” Lawrence lets the cigarette fall through his fingers, grinds it out on the floor. There’s no such thing as a real honest conversation, not at fucking Argestes of all places, and certainly not between him and Kendall Roy. But he wants to start somewhere—for closure, for all the years of his life spent on Vaulter. “Was it real, from the beginning? Or did you just _think_ you want it?”

Kendall turns away from him. The ember at the end of his cigarette flashes, like a blinking light.

“I mean, you said it, right? It’s my specialty, defusing the bombs I planted. At least I was good at it.” From lifeboats to bombs—the nature of reality, bending to the will of his delusional force. Lawrence smiles as he feels anger swelling up in his chest. The lake is wrinkling under a sudden gust of wind, under another helicopter taking off with the million-billionaires in it, flying into the distance.

“No, Kendall. You wanted something to call yours so bad. You wanted to call it yours, the way I call Vaulter. The way your dad calls Waystar.” He can feel his voice growing louder, with bitterness. “But all you do, actually, is just parading around in your big diaper, leaving shit everywhere. You can’t build anything. You only ever fuck them up.”

“Uh-huh.” Kendall puts out his cigarette, pushes his hands into the pockets of his vest. “Yeah, I know what you think of me. Rich fuckers hanging out in the centuries-old clubhouses, getting high on their hot shit billion-dollar ideas, paying the nerds to churn it out as a website, an app. But you’re no fucking Zuckerberg, are you? He would have blacklisted my number after that first call. How many times did I get to bend you over the negotiating table? You fucking sold out with your eyes open.”

Lawrence smiles, despite himself. He still gets a kick out of the sport of it, applying just enough pressure to put Kendall on the defense. It feels like the old times, with the honesty only dollar figures can carry—or almost. Aren’t they supposed to be different people by now?

“It was a calculated risk. I was hoping to have some fun, when your dad croaks, with you all to myself. Cut you open and see what spills out from the gilded cage. We could have had fun.”

“Yeah, well. Money wins, and, your math was bad.” Kendall says, with his eyes glazed over.

“And you don’t wonder what would have happened,” Lawrence leans in a bit; Kendall doesn’t move. He’s careful not to show the full extent of frustration in his voice, like he’s really just positing a thought experiment, “if you actually took over when you made the acquisition?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you could have killed me, you would have. Maybe Vaulter would have outlasted you, in a better world.”

Lawrence scoffs at Kendall’s smirk. Same delusion, different flavor. This dance can go on forever, really, if he’d let it. He doesn’t want to know why he even contemplates it.

“Well, fuck you too.” Lawrence turns and walks. They are well past the stage of shaking hands and saying goodbyes, after everything.

Lawrence looks back when he reaches the end of the pier. Kendall is a small dot of a silhouette against the lake. Lawrence allows himself to think about squishing Kendall like an ant, if he puts his thumb and forefinger together.

Before heading back inside, he grabs the hand sanitizer from his inner pocket, squeezes the bottle hard for good measure. The air feels chilled on his skin, as the alcohol rubs in for reset.

**Author's Note:**

> As the record shows, I think I had way more fun coming up with sexually charged corporate metaphors than I would writing actual hate sex between these two. Kendall "business is my fucking" Roy and his oldest nemesis onto whom he projects the self-made fantasy he will never achieve in this lifetime! More scenes together in season 3, please—I need to see that darkest timeline beard again.


End file.
